Welcome, To the Stark Expo!
by The Muses' Summer House
Summary: Peter likes to think that he is adaptable. His life has been crazy, but he rolls with the punches. Lately everyone has been telling him that 'things change'. Peter agrees, but did it all have to happen all at once? Couldn't Peter just enjoy the Stark Expo for once in his life?
1. The Agreement

**This takes place in the same universe as 'Mechanical Mind'. You don't necessarily need to have read it to follow the plot of this story, but there are references draw from that oneshot. Also, this fic follows the MCU events of Endgame and SM: FFH, except Peter's identity was never revealed to the world. Okay, we're all on the same page? Cool. Enjoy!**

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**The Agreement **

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In retrospect, Peter really should have seen this coming. There had been little clues lurking in the corners of his and MJ's lives, but Peter had been too busy to notice them. Or maybe he just hadn't wanted to acknowledge them. He and MJ had made a deal, after all. And Peter had come to learn over the many years that he had known his wife, that her word was iron clad. Solid. Unbreakable.

Denial, as it turns out, is a very powerful thing. It encapsulated Peter in a bubble and blinded him from the sudden appearance of baby related ads on his computer. The computer that is in his office at home. The computer that his wife sometimes uses. He had been busy lately, working for the Research and Development department of Stark Industries and being Spider-Man in his spare time. The Stark Expo was coming up in a couple months, and his boss had been putting pressure on the whole department to crank out new prototypes and models to showcase at the event. For the past three weeks, Peter worked tirelessly, both at the lab and at home, to fulfill the insane quota that his boss was demanding. His eyes didn't even really notice the steady trickle of 'Flash Sale, up to 80% off baby clothes!' and '25% off cribs, get it before its gone!'. It was all just background noise. Well, the visual equivalent of background noise.

But then, Peter noticed something that made his heart momentarily stop beating. He opened the browser history, having accidentally closed a page that he needed but he couldn't remember the name of. There it was, above of the pages he had visited that day.

What to expect when you're expecting.

A web search for local pediatricians.

A plethora of stores that specialize in baby things.

Peter blinked hard because surely, he was not reading that right. He was over worked. Stressed. Clearly hallucinating. But no, the words didn't morph in to… not pregnancy related stuff. They stubbornly stared back at him, threatening to shatter the stability in Peter's life. Honestly, he felt a bit faint.

"Hey, Babe?" Peter called out, not moving from his spot behind his office desk.

"Yeah?" MJ's voice floated from a distance through his open office door.

"You pregnant?"

A second passed, and Peter realized that he had stopped breathing.

"No."

Air rushed out of Peter's lungs from the breath he was holding. He took one more steadying breath before running a shaking hand through his hair.

"But I wanna be," MJ added. Her words echoed in the silent apartment and rattled around in Peter's brain. His brain which was currently malfunctioning.

Oh, God. What was happening? What happened to their agreement? After thirteen years of marriage, was MJ seriously going to welch on it now?

Numbly, Peter stood up, walked out from behind his desk and out the door. There was some disconnect between his brain and his feet, but he found himself standing in the living room. Perched on the couch, MJ sat with a book lying open on her lap. She was wearing that façade that Peter hadn't seen much of since they were teenagers; tense but trying to act cool. It had taken years in the beginning of their relationship for MJ to unlearn that guarded behavior. To trust that even if Peter was mad at her, he wouldn't leave. That nothing she did would scare him off. Seeing that mask once again dashed away Peter's last remaining hope that she was joking.

"You wanna have a baby?" Peter asked hesitantly. A little glimmer of mischief lit up MJ's eyes and a coy smirk worked its way on to her face.

"Took you long enough to catch the hint."

Oh.

"You were purposely looking up baby stuff so that my web browser would hit me up with nothing but baby ads?"

"Yep."

Peter shook his head in disbelief. Sometimes, MJ took strange opportunities to show off her clever and sneaky side.

"Why? You've always been blunt and direct. Why the subtlety all of a sudden?"

"It's a good ice breaker, don't you think?" She asked innocently. Peter's head cocked to the side and he felt his brows start to knit together. This provoked a short laugh from MJ. "Seriously, how else would I bring up the conversation? Over dinner?" She shifted in her seat a little in order to hold her body in an imitation of the way Peter held his. "Hey, Babe. How's was your day?" She asked in a deeper voice. "Oh, not bad. I decided to take on a case to defend the preservation of a Community Center, and I just decided recently that I want to be a mother." She answered herself in her own voice.

Normally, Peter would say 'I don't sound like that' out of obligation and respect to the long-standing tradition of spousal imitation. But this was some serious shit they had to talk about. If MJ was going to be the subtle one, Peter might as well be the blunt and direct one.

"We agreed that we wouldn't have kids. I got it in writing."

MJ's coy smirk took on a softer edge and Peter knew that she was remembering the day when they had written up the agreement. It was more of a list, really. A list of all the deal breakers that neither one of them would tolerate in their marriage. A sort of 'speak now or forever hold your peace' that existed just between the two of them. They had been sitting in a diner, sipping coffee and casually discussing the possibility of getting married. They were both graduated from university and had gotten jobs in their respective fields. Robotics for Peter, law for MJ. Marriage had been something that they had talked about for a couple of years. It had been placed on the back burner because of poor finances and… other stuff. Superhero stuff. But finally, Peter had struck a good balance between his normal life and his Spider-Man life. He had also saved up some money. Enough that marriage had become a real possibility.

Right then and there, MJ had grabbed the coffee stained, paper placemat from under her mug. She had turned it over, grabbed a pen from her purse, and she and Peter had hashed out the deal breakers. It was a short list, with plenty of blank paper left at the bottom. They had filled that part up with things they both wanted. Hopes. Dreams. Plans. Later, Aunt May had laughed and called them the most pragmatic couple she had ever seen. Peter took that as a compliment. A pragmatic life lead to a stable life. After all the shit that Peter had seen, everything he had gone through, everyone he had lost… stability was the thing he wanted above all else.

A week later, Peter had proposed with a ring that MJ had chosen herself. He had wanted to get her a ring that was to her taste. MJ had picked out a moissanite ring, rather than a diamond one. Moissanite, which was identical to diamond and nearly as hard, but only a fraction of the price. She had claimed that she would rather put their money towards a down payment on their apartment, rather than some over-priced piece of carbon. Any small part of Peter which hadn't been impossibly in love with MJ before that day was won over. As for the agreement, it had been placed lovingly in their wedding album and tucked away in to their book shelf.

Neither one of them had wanted kids. They had agreed on that first and foremost. It was the first point on the list.

"That paper placemat isn't legally binding. Harvard taught me that much," MJ said lightly, bring Peter back to the moment. She stretched out her hand towards him. A silent request to join her on the couch. Peter decided to remain standing. A valley of space existed between the two of them and Peter willed it not to break in to a chasm. Slowly, MJ dropped her hand on to the couch and regarded him with a soft and cautious gaze. "Things change Peter. The things I wanted when we were twenty-five aren't the same as what I want now that we're thirty-eight. I don't want to be on my deathbed, looking back on my life and regretting all the things I didn't do. You only get one shot at things, you know?"

Peter's stomach clenched painfully. He hated seeing his wife so distressed. Even after all these years, he was still as deeply in love with her as the day they got married. He would do almost anything for her, but he wasn't sure if this was something he was willing to do for her. With purposeful strides, Peter crossed the distance and dropped down on to the couch beside MJ. He held both of her hands in his and looked in to her eyes. For years, they had been an endless source of warmth and comfort for him.

"I don't want you to live with regrets either, but having kids was one of our deal breakers," He said softly, taking in every bit of her expression. "You're not trying to break the deal, are you?"

"No, of course not," MJ scoffed and Peter breathed a genuine sigh of relief. "Unlike the placemat, our marriage license is a legally binding contract. It's the agreement we made to be together until we're pushing up daisies."

Suddenly, all traces of humour left her face. A somber seriousness etched its way in to the lines and wrinkles of her face, making her look her age. Freeing one of her hands from Peter's grasp, MJ reached up to cup his cheek.

"I love you, but I also want a baby."

Peter had no answer for that. With horror, he watched MJ's eyes start to well up with tears as the silence stretched on. Realizing a second too late how hurt she was from his stunned silence, Peter turned his face to press a kiss to MJ's thumb. He wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her on to his lap. His arms locked around her middle and he pressed his face in to the crook of her neck.

"I'll think about it." He murmured against her skin. It was the only thing that he could promise right now. One of MJ's hands reached up, and Peter could feel her thin fingers run through his hair. The simple gesture never failed to bring Peter peace, and he recognized it as a silent act of thanks.

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**This is a short chapter. I think I might write this story as many short chapters with weekly-ish updates. I don't know. We'll see how it goes. **


	2. Conversations with the Dead

**Here's this week's weekly-ish update! Enjoy!**

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**Conversations with the Dead**

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Stark Industries was Peter's home away from home. Besides the fact that he was practically family to the CEO and her soon to be successor, Peter felt a great sense of ease whenever he walked in to his semi-private lab. It was his space to use in whatever way he saw fit. The room teemed with potential and possibility. Things that lived in Peter's mind could be manifested into metal and wiring once he was in this space. Peter knew he was very fortunate. He had been set on a path since he was fourteen years old to wind up in this lab. To have the freedom to create whatever he wanted. It had all started when Mr. Stark had shown up, abruptly and unannounced, in to his life. There had been some growing pains in the beginning. Looking back on it, Peter always cringed at the memory of his teenage bratty attitude. Mr. Stark had doled out some tough love to keep him grounded, and then things had gone awry. It had all worked out in the end. Some of Peter's fondest memories were of the time he and Mr. Stark had shared in his lab. Maybe that was why Peter's own lab gave him such peace of mind. In here, it was impossible not to feel a connection to a time, long since passed but never forgotten.

He had learned a lot from Mr. Stark. Not just about mechanics, but about life in general. Spending nearly twenty years as a hot mess had given Mr. Stark perspective and, Peter would dare to say, wisdom. He would drop a pearl here and there and Peter would absorb his words with rapt attention. He missed it, even after all these years. He wished that he could ask him what he would do if he were in Peter's shoes. From what Peter had learned, later on in his life, Mr. Stark and Pepper's roles were reversed from Peter and MJ's. Mr. Stark had wanted a kid and Pepper had been apprehensive. Sitting at his lab table, staring down at his new project in his hands, Peter could almost imagine a presence sitting next to him.

'_Hey, Mr. Stark, how did you react when you found out that Pepper was pregnant?'_

'_I was 'shit-a-brick' terrified, but also ecstatic. It's a weird combination of emotions, to be honest. Also, kid, you're thirty-eight. How long before you start calling me Tony?'_

'_How long before you stop calling me kid?'_

'_Never.'_

'_Exactly.' _

They never got there. Peter had only called Mr. Stark by his first name once, on his deathbed. They never got to the point where Peter could casually call Mr. Stark by his first name. His wife had changed over the years, from Ms. Potts to Pepper. As Peter had gotten to know her, she had changed from the intimidating CEO of Stark Industries to just… Pepper. Morgan's mom. May's friend and eventually Peter's too. But Mr. Stark had never gotten to the point where he could have seen Peter as a friend and not a child. Peter's time with him had been stolen, along with the potential of what they could have been. Friends. Family. Not just a kid and his dad. Peter hated Thanos for that, more than anything else.

Peter's life was dangerous. Even before he had become Spider-Man, his shit luck had screwed him over time and again. Three father figures. All of them dead before Peter was an adult. How could MJ expect him to be a father when he had to string together three men to even get a glimpse of what that looked like? To see what he would have to become? There was only one person who could understand his problem completely, and he was long gone. Buried in the ground, far beyond Peter's reach.

'_How did you balance the two? Family life and Superhero life?'_

Peter didn't need an imagined response to know the answer. Mr. Stark had retired. But Peter… he wasn't there yet. He loved his job too much. He loved both of them; being Spider-Man and being an Engineer. The drive that caused him to take up the superhero mantle was just as strong as when he was fourteen. He wouldn't be able to stop being Spider-Man. He couldn't leave his city unprotected, and as long as he was Spider-Man he couldn't be a father. The two couldn't coexist.

'_I don't know what to do.' _

There was no response. Not even an imagined one conjured by Peter's wishful thinking. Somehow, Peter just _knew _that even if Mr. Stark were alive, he wouldn't know what to say to Peter. This was something that he had to figure out on his own.

'_I miss you, Mr. Stark.' _

He ended all of his imagined conversations with Mr. Stark like that. Sitting in his dorm room during his first day of MIT. Tying his tie in an empty room, hours before his wedding. Washing Quentin Beck's blood off of his hands. For all those moments, Peter had sought out Mr. Stark. It didn't matter how many years had passed, how many mile stones Peter had reached, or how much his life changed. Some days, Peter just wanted Mr. Stark around so that he could hear that he missed him too. That he loved him. That he was proud of him. All the things that the man had never said to him during his life. So many missed opportunities.

A familiar sound of fingers tapping aggressively on glass broke the spell, and Mr. Stark vanished without ever having really been present. Peter turned to look at the glass wall and door of the lab which lead out in to the hallway. His boss, Tim Davies, was tapping the entry code in to the key pad. He was the reason why Peter called his lab 'semi-private'. He didn't have to share with other engineers but his boss could come and go as he pleased. He finished tapping the code on to the holographic pad and the door made a slight clicking noise as it unlocked.

"Parker," he called in that annoyingly pompous tone. The one that he only seemed to use when talking to Peter.

Peter took a deep breath through his nose and tried to smother his sudden irritation. It wasn't just that the man was annoying. He also seemed to have a knack for interrupting Peter at the wrong time. Not that Peter was about to explain to his boss how he was annoyed that he was interrupting a conversation with a memory. That was the sort of thing that would land him in the psych ward. Instead he plastered a stilted smile on his face.

"Davies."

Davies's face twitched with barely concealed annoyance, but he said nothing. He had insisted too many times to count that Peter refer to him as _Mr. Davies _or _sir_, but Peter never did. The honorific implied that Peter had respect for him when he, in fact, had none. To date, this was his pettiest passive-aggressive act. Davies walked closer to the lab table with purposeful steps. It was the kind of walk that attempted to send a message of power and control, but honestly, to Peter it was just ridiculous. He had rubbed shoulders with powerful people since he was a teenager. They didn't need to actively try to project a strong image in order to be respected. They simply were.

"I don't pay you to sit around and stare off in to space. Get to work on something useful."

Peter wasn't surprised in the least that Davies had been spying on him from the hallway. He was mildly concerned that his spidey sense hadn't tipped him off to the fact that someone was watching him, but he supposed that was because Davies wasn't a real threat.

"Well, technically, _you _don't pay me at all. Pepper does." Peter stated lightly. Davies lips pursed like he had eaten something sour and Peter had to stifle a laugh. He lifted the project in his hands up to eye level so that Davies could see it better. Not that his boss cared about it. The hover board, like the one from Back to the Future, was something that he and Peter had already split hairs over. Peter had to go over his head to get the project green lit by Morgan. That had caused tons of pissy office drama but it was worth it to see one of his childhood dreams scratched off of his bucket list. "The hover board is coming along nicely, thanks for asking. All the human and alien kiddies at the Expo are sure to get a kick out of it."

Seeing kids having fun with his creation was one of the things that Peter was looking forward to the most at the Stark Expo. His desire to make the high-tech toy was derived from his memory of the Stark Expo that he had gone to in 2009. Peter had enjoyed all the attractions at the Expo because of his love for science, but he had especially loved the little light-up Iron Man gloves and masks that were sold for children. They had made him feel powerful long before Oscorp had come along to give him actual powers. He had stood his ground against a killer drone because those gloves and mask had made him believe that he could do anything. Then he had been rescued by Mr. Stark, although he never told him about that. The Stark Expo 2009 had been memorable to say the least. Now, there was going to be a new generation of kids attending the Stark Expo 2044 and Peter wanted to provide some stuff that would make the experience just as memorable for them as it had been for him. Just, you know, in a less lethal way.

It had been a real struggle for Peter to impress upon his boss the importance of the Expo being fun for everyone. Davies was only concerned with his engineers building stuff that would impress their foreign audience. While it was true that impressing their Xandarian investors was an important objective of the Expo, it wasn't the Expo's sole purpose. The Starks did things with flair. Davies just didn't seem to get that.

Peter couldn't stand to be near him anymore. He placed the hover board on the table and abruptly stood up.

"Where do you think you're going?" Davies asked as Peter walked around him to get to the door.

"I'm taking a break. Feel free to use this time to pull that stick outta your ass."

From behind him, Peter could hear Davies spluttering indignantly. If he worked any other sort of job, he wouldn't dare say something like that. It was one of the perks of being friends with the Boss, with a capital B. The CEO. The lady who never took crap from anyone.

"I'm reporting this to HR!"

"Go ahead. Sandra enjoys a good laugh just as much as Pepper does."

With that, Peter strode down the empty hallway towards the elevator. He felt a slight headache building behind his eyes. God, he was in no mood for any of this today. He really missed the days when Davies wasn't a total prick and Peter could refer to him as Tim. He had been an alright guy back then. It wasn't until after he had found out that Peter was close to Pepper and Morgan that he had started to act so high and mighty. Peter supposed that he felt threatened that someone working under him had close connections to the Stark family. The whole thing had erupted in to an all out pettiness war and it was all so draining.

The elevator doors slid closed and Peter jabbed the button for the main lobby. Morgan had the idea of installing a coffee shop in the building. Correlating with its appearance, productivity at Stark Industry rose 5%. This just further affirmed Peter's theory that the business sector of Manhattan was sustained by caffeine and not much else. Peter was a frequenter of the coffee shop despite the fact that his body couldn't handle the caffeine. Living with MJ, he had acquired a taste for coffee. The compromise was to order decaf. All the taste with none of the caffeine. Harmony at its best.

The lobby bustled with a perpetual cycle of business men and workers. A din of conversations buzzed in the air and it intensified Peter's headache. In all of the years that he had worked for Stark Industries, he had never seen the lobby empty. Making a bee-line for the coffee shop, Peter saw Jerry standing behind the counter. He didn't know the guy at all, except as the guy who worked weekends at the coffee shop, but Peter liked him. He was young, probably a college student, and had an infectious sort of energy. Peter suspected that Jerry was abusing the 'free coffee for employees' rule, considering how hyper he was all the time.

"Hey, Jerry!" Peter called out brightly as he approached the counter. Jerry gave him a smile but it was… off. Not quite as bright as his usual 1000-watt smile. Peter felt concern start to gnaw at his stomach. Maybe he was just having a bad day? It's not like the kid had to be 100% bubbly and happy all the time, its just that Peter had never seen him as anything else.

"Hey," Jerry replied, not unhappily. "What can I get you?"

A frown tugged reflexively at Peter's mouth. It seemed strange that he even had to ask. Peter always got a medium cup of decaf coffee. In fact, Jerry would usually just ask him if he wanted his usual.

"The usual please."

Jerry stared at him for just a fraction of a section too long, before turning to the coffee pots behind him. Peter reasoned that he was probably just stressed. It was mid-Febuary, so midterms would be coming up soon. Jerry probably just had a lot on his mind. Plus, college was a stressful time for everyone. He might be going through a rough patch.

"Thanks." Peter mumbled as he took the coffee and handed Jerry the exact change. He said nothing in response, but nodded his head in acknowledgement. Well, that was odd. Jerry was a bundle of energy most days. Maybe it was trouble with his love life? Yeah, that was likely. Peter recalled his late teens as being nothing but angst and heartbreak. That was a normal thing, right? Jeez, why did Peter even care? He was reading too much in to this.

The elevator doors closed behind Peter, and he was alone temporarily in the little room. He sipped at his coffee and watched the floor numbers climb higher and higher. He hoped that Davies had decided to leave him alone. Peter glanced at his watch and saw that it had been ten minutes since he left. Surely, he hadn't decided to stick around until Peter came back? Peter could feel his heart start to beat harder, which was strange. His boss was annoying but Peter wasn't scared of him. He wasn't even really worried by him at all. So why was his heart pounding?

The coffee.

With a sinking heart, Peter realized that Jerry had given him caffeinated coffee, not decaf. The doors slid open as the elevator arrived at his floor. It wasn't a big enough deal for Peter to go back downstairs and kick up a fuss. The kid was just scatter brained today. But it did mean that Peter was going to be up all night. He heaved a sigh and walked down towards his lab. It was empty, and really that was the silver-lining on this whole situation. If Peter was going to pull an all-nighter, at least he wouldn't be disturbed in his lab. Tonight was as good a time as any to finish a hover board.

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**I'm not sure if 'engineer' is the accurate job title for what Peter does, but whatever. Close enough. **


	3. Falling Again and Again

**Thanks to everyone who is favoriting/following/reviewing! Here's chapter 3!**

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**Falling Again and Again **

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A chill ran down Peter's spine as he lay flat on his back and stared up at the ceiling. Above of him, the ceiling beams of Peter's lab crossed paths to create roughly shaped squares. If his lab were a bit more private, he would climb up there and create a web hammock in those beams. It would be a million times more comfortable than the frigid floor he was currently lying on. Then again, the cold felt kinda nice on his muscles. Not that he had pulled anything as a result of the multiple wipe-outs on the hoverboard, but his business casual clothes were not comfortable for such spectacular flips. He knew that the security footage for the past hour or so would be filled with stellar slips off of the board followed by oddly graceful saves. The most recent one had resulted from Peter shifting his weight on the hovering surface, which caused it to rocket out from under his feet. He had fallen forward, shot his hands out, flipped his body over in a brief hand-stand before the momentum swung his body through the arc and he came crashing to the ground.

So, here he was. Looking at the ceiling beams. A thick layer of dust covered each girder. He really should do something about that. Maybe he could turn off all the lights in the lab and use the darkness as a cover. He could loop a Swiffer through his belt and climb his way up the walls. He'd sweep up all the dust and cobwebs and… oh, god. When the hell did Peter start caring about dust? He was turning in to an old lady.

The hum of low energy repulsors echoed mockingly in the otherwise silent lab. Its hum sounded almost like a laugh. Peter really should put an age restriction on the hoverboard. Ages 8+. Or maybe Ages 25-, because honestly an unenhanced individual would have broken his back by now. Would belts over the feet make this thing more or less dangerous? Well, they were definitely gonna sell these things with non-optional helmets. And maybe bubble wrap suits.

A gentle tapping of fingers on glass snapped Peter's attention to the glass wall and door. The door unlocked and Pepper stepped in to the room. Her semi-worried gaze found his on the floor.

"You're not hurt, are you?"

Her question sounded disbelieving, and rightfully so. Peter had been known to crash through brick walls and walk away with just a couple bruises. Like hell a children's toy could beat him.

"Not at all." Peter said while heaving himself up from the floor. His belt dug uncomfortably in to his hip and his pants felt stiff and restricting as he climbed to his feet. This was why his spidersuit was made out of spandex and other stretchy materials. "I just thought I'd take a breather on the floor. It's about as comfortable as any other surface in here."

It was the truth. The only other surfaces were steel table tops and counters. Peter really should invest in a couch. Maybe he could get Stark Industries to cover it as a work expense. Pepper's eyes narrowed slightly, etching the wrinkles around them a little deeper.

"Please tell me you're starting the day early and that you haven't been here all night."

Peter laughed at that. She sounded so weary and tired, and just _done _with everything. Peter supposed she was officially done now that she was about to sign the company over to Morgan. None of this crap was her's to worry about anymore.

"I mean, I _could _say that, but would you really believe me?" Peter asked as he ran his hands over his clothes, brushing off any dust. Pepper rolled her eyes and strolled casually over to his work table. Her steps had become much quieter in recent years as arthritis had forced her to trade in her elegant high heeled shoes for comfortable flats.

"No," She stated bluntly. "But I'm old and days away from retirement. I'll turn a blind eye if it means I don't have to give Tim Davies one last gentle reminder about labour laws and work place ethics."

"Well, then good news. I chose to stay all night. Or rather, my barista did when he decided that I'm not worthy of the limited supply of decaf coffee."

Pepper's brows raised in slight surprise as her eyes glanced over to the empty paper cup on the table beside her.

"Really? All that energy from just one cup? Did he lace it with cocaine?"

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, feigning offense. He opened them again to see Pepper smirking at him with a knowing look.

"Excuse you, my body is a temple."

Unlike most teens and young adults, Peter had never gone through an experimental phase of drugs and alcohol. The spider bite had rendered both useless on him. For whatever reason, caffeine slipped through the cracks and was the one drug that affected him. That spider bite had sealed Peter's fate to be the designated driver for MJ and Ned throughout their college life. Not that Peter was complaining. He was perfectly fine with the spider making that decision for him to always be sober. As the eternally sober friend in a party of reckless drunks, it just meant that he had tons of incriminating pictures and texts and no one had anything on him. Plus, everyone always got home safe with Peter behind the wheel.

Peter turned to pick up the hover board, which was floating innocently in the corner. Like it hadn't caused him to nearly face-plant the floor over a dozen times. Yep, it was deceivingly innocent looking toy. Peter would definitely send word to the Stark Industries' legal team to draft a waiver for everyone using one of these at the Expo. Maybe they should build a designated spot for using the boards. A space with padded walls and floors and absolutely no sharp corners.

"So, you finally did it." Pepper called out from behind him. Peter turned and threw a confused glance at her. She gestured to the board in his hands. "Hoverboards. I recall Tony grumbling about this particular idea pitch way back when."

Peter remembered it too. He had proposed the idea after a few months of mentoring. His lab visits had become more and more frequent, and they had started to design things that weren't necessary for his Spidersuit. It hadn't seemed, to Peter at least, outside the realm of possibility that they could design a hoverboard, but Mr. Stark had scoffed at the idea. He had grumbled about how his state-of-the-art lab didn't exist to bring Sci-Fi gadgets in to existence. Peter had called bullshit on that one by pointing out that the Iron Man suit was basically militarized Inspector Gadget but in suit form. He may have received a temporary ban from the lab for that comment.

"It took nearly thirty years, but I finally got my way." Peter said as he ran his hands fondly over the smooth surface of the board. Huh, maybe he should have put a grippy kind of surface on it. Something with traction on it to cling to the soles of his shoes. "You wanna see it in action?"

"No, that's okay. I was standing out there for a while watching the show," Pepper said and jerked her thumb toward the glass wall. Peter narrowed his eyes at her casual tone. If his hands weren't holding the hoverboard, he would have crossed them over his chest.

"Seriously?"

"What?" Pepper asked rhetorically. "If it were anyone else, I would've feared for their safety. But I've seen you do way more dangerous stuff. So, in your case, it was quality entertainment."

Well, that was just rude. Peter thought that he should be irritated about being the unsuspecting subject of a one-man slap-stick show, but honestly, he couldn't quite manage it. Maybe it was the fatigue talking now that the caffeine was finally starting to leave his system, but the thought of Pepper standing outside with a bucket of popcorn and watching him flail like a spastic starfish was kinda hilarious.

"But then you didn't get up after that last tumble, so I thought I'd check to make sure you were still alive." Pepper added with just a hint of a teasing edge. It was enough to make Peter rise to the bait. He placed the board… technically in the air, but closer to his feet, and stepped on to it. He was determined to save his dignity.

"Well, you know what they say," Peter grumbled as he centered himself and pushed the board onward. "Fourteenth times the charm."

The board sailed effortlessly through the air about a foot above the ground. Despite his frustration with the work-in-progress design, Peter felt a certain giddiness well up in his chest as he defied gravity and drifted above the floor. This was it. Childhood wish fulfillment. Peter really couldn't ask for more. He stubbornly ignored the little voice that whispered that he would have been much happier thirty-ish years ago, with a different Stark watching his struggle. He smothered that voice because shoulda, woulda, coulda. All the 'what if's' would pile up inside him and bite like barbed wire if Peter lingered on them for too long. Even twenty-one years after his death, Peter was careful to hold Mr. Stark's memory at arm's length, lest he be swallowed by grief. He pushed it all aside and instead he kept his attention focused on his feet and the board below them. That was his first mistake. His second mistake was putting too much force in to his leg's thrust, causing the board to rapidly speed up.

He only saw the concrete wall when it's right in front of him.

"Look out!" Pepper called out, too late. With his lightening quick reflexes, Peter stepped down hard with his back foot on the back end of the board. The board tilted up and continued its path up the side of the wall. Huh. So the board worked over walls, that was good to know. Peter's happiness was short lived as he felt the effects of gravity seize his body.

Yeah, Peter was definitely going to install belts or clamps or _something _to hold feet securely to the board. He made this decision as his back slammed to the floor again. It didn't hurt so much, having fallen from a shorter distance this time, but still, his pride smarted something fierce. It didn't help that his legs were stuck up the length of the wall in a cartoon-ish manner.

"Are you okay?" Pepper asked again.

Peter huffed an aggravated breath through his nose. Above him, the hoverboard drifted up, up, and away. Hiding itself among the girders and dust bunnies like a coward. Damn, he would have to climb up there and get it down. Fatigue was settling in to his muscles, and he just didn't want to do this right now. Soft footsteps approached his side and Pepper came in to view above of him. She glanced down at him for a moment. Strands of her grey hair that weren't fastened in to her simple and elegant ponytail framed her face. She reached down and offered her hand, which Peter took out of politeness. He was careful to not pull too hard and throw her off her balance as he climbed to his feet. When he straightened up, he saw something akin to fondness in Pepper's expression. Fondness and… something else.

"What?"

Pepper shook her head slightly and a smile lit up her face.

"You're still that awkward, gangly kid at heart."

Well, yeah. Of course. Who else would he be? He was still himself, just a little more stressed and put-upon. Honestly, some days Peter thought that adulthood was the real mask that he wore, not his ostentatious red and black webbed one.

"Yeah, I guess we all just got a little taller." Peter said. Well, in his case, a little taller. In Pepper's case, a little more lined and a lot greyer. Peter kept that part to himself. Pepper had a really positive outlook on aging, but still, it would have been rude to say that. Maybe it had something to do with losing her husband too soon, but Peter had always known Pepper to happily accept every wrinkle, line and grey hair. She had decided years ago to give up her dyed strawberry-blonde hair and embrace the silver bell look. She had told him once that it was a privilege to get to grow old, and Peter couldn't agree more.

"So, what do you think?" Pepper asked. "Should we store the security footage on the private server, or bury it in the bottom of the ocean." Her tone was light, but Peter balked at the implication. The private server was accessible only to the Stark family. In legal terms, that was Pepper and Morgan. In all the ways that mattered it included Peter, MJ, May, Happy, and Rhodey. The thought of MJ watching him goofing off at work… especially now… it made his stomach twist in to knots.

"Bottom of the ocean!" Peter blurted out, a little louder than he had intended. Pepper stared at him in stunned silence for a moment.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously with his hand. "Everyone's seen enough of me falling on my ass. They don't need to see this too."

Pepper's keen eyes regarded him suspiciously, trying to see through the cracks in Peter's facade.

"You sure? You don't want anyone to see your 'living-the-dream' moment?"

Normally, Peter would be thrilled to share this with MJ. Even by her aloof standards, she wouldn't be able to deny how cool this was. But things between them were fragile and if Peter was being honest, he was hiding in his lab. Pepper's eyes leveled him, and Peter could feel the pressure growing heavier. Why the hell did he even bother with lying? He was so awful at it. Always had been and probably always would be.

"I don't want MJ to see it."

"Why?" Pepper asked, without missing a beat. Peter tried really hard to not squirm under her gaze.

"I told her that I'm working late."

That seemed to catch her off guard. Pepper's brow furrowed with genuine confusion and her eyes softened a little.

"Yeah, and you _were_ working late."

"Well, yeah…" Peter mumbled and finally succumbed to the urge to squirm. He shifted his weight uneasily on his feet and lifted his eyes up to the ceiling. The orange glow of hoverboard repulsors shined sinisterly like a pair of watchful eyes.

"Did you stay late so you could avoid her?"

Peter tried to not cringe, but he was just as unsuccessful with that as he was with his urge to not squirm. Damn, it really did sound bad when she said it like that. You know… honestly. Peter dropped his eyes back down and found Pepper's worried ones.

"What's going on?"

Peter sighed and felt his tiredness really start to wear him down. He didn't want to get in to this right now. He hadn't told anyone about the whole 'wife who previously didn't want a baby now wants a baby' thing. Not even May or Ned. It seemed like too private of an issue to discuss with anyone else.

"Nothing. We're just going through a… thing." He finished lamely.

"You're going through a thing?" Pepper prompted, but Peter remained silent. The awkwardness lasted for only a second before Pepper's questioning look dissolved in to acceptance. "You don't need me to tell you that avoiding her will just make things worse, yadda, yadda, yadda. You already know that."

"Yeah, I do," Peter agreed. A lull fell in the conversation and Pepper looked at him expectantly. Peter felt as though she was waiting for him to make a connection or say something, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say.

"So go home already." She said and nodded her head towards the door.

Oh. Of course. Pepper wanted him to go home and patch things up with his wife. It would be pointless. At this time of day the apartment was empty. He might as well stay here and start his own work day.

"She won't be there. Her office opens soon." Peter explained. Pepper was still looking at him like he was missing something obvious.

"I mean, go home and sleep."

Oh. Okay. So Peter did entirely miss the point.

"I got work too," he argued.

"Not anymore you don't. I can see in your eyes that the crack coffee is wearing off. You're going to be a zombie if you stay."

"But, I got a weekly quota-"

"For the next five days, I'm still your boss." Pepper interrupted in a slightly raised voice. Not quite shouting, but one that exuded a commanding air. "And your boss is ordering you to take the day off."

It would seem that Pepper had exceeded her bullshit tolerance level for the day. Peter knew better than to argue with her 'Boss' voice, so he nodded his head and ran a tired hand through his disheveled curls.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Pepper rolled her eyes, as she always did whenever Peter called her 'Ma'am'. It was kinda fun to run to the boundary of Pepper's patience and stop just before the edge. It was like playing a game of chicken with her last nerve. Peter turned to collect his coat and the empty coffee cup, cause Peter wasn't a litterbug.

"Peter?" Pepper called out just as he was reaching for the door. "The hoverboard really is..." she trailed off, searching for a word, "cool." Her nose scrunched up in silent contemplation. "Do the kids still say that?"

Peter laughed and shrugged his shoulders. Personally, he thought that 'cool' was durable and stood the test of time. He hoped the kids were still saying 'cool', but honestly, who knew anymore.

"You're asking me? I'm old too."

Pepper nodded up towards the ceiling where the hoverboard was still... hovering. Could it still be considered hovering if it was fifteen to twenty feet in the air?

"Aren't you going to get it down?"

"Nah." Peter shook his head. The hoverboard had enough power to last for three days. The thought of fetching it from the ceiling made Peter feel even more tired than he already was. He decided that this would be tomorrow's problem. "He knows what he did. He can stay up there and think about what he's done."

With that, Peter pulled the door open and stepped in to the hall. The door was nearly closed when he heard Pepper's hushed voice mumble from inside.

"He really did become his father's son."

The door closed with an almost inaudible click and Peter felt his heart sink. Pepper had obviously not intended for him to hear that, but he did. Mr. Stark was a man revered through out the universe as a hero and savior. But those who had known him personally had also known his faults. Peter knew what a mess Mr. Stark had been. He had loved the man like a father, but he knew that he was also incredibly flawed. Mr. Stark had once told him that he wanted Peter to be better than him. Pepper's words left him feeling both shaken and steady. As Peter turned to walk down the hall, he felt his resolve harden.

Peter had to do better because MJ deserved the best.

* * *

**Next update wont be for a while. Life is starting to get busy again and I want to concentrate a bit more on my other WIP before life gets too hectic. So that will delay this story's updates.**


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